


An Arrangement

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Alternate Universe - Historical, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26259316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: Mycroft was supposed to go to London and find a rich wife. Mummy’s not going to be happy when he shows up with Greg instead.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 87
Kudos: 207





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft Holmes sipped his drink and looked at the full ballroom. Men and women strutted around like peacocks, seeing and being seen. Tedious, really, but it was expected for someone of his class and station.

For most of his life, Mycroft had done his best to avoid the London season, or at least, to put in only a minimal effort, but this year was different. Father had passed away late last year and Mycroft had come to realize that while the family had title and land, they had very little else.

What they needed was an infusion of cash. Which meant, regrettably, he should find someone to marry. Preferably a rich someone.

Mycroft had no interest in the opposite sex. Hopefully, he could find someone willing to live out on the estate. If they preferred the company of women then perhaps they could find an arrangement. Unfortunately, most of the women he'd seen so far were decidedly interested in the opposite sex.

The doors opened as someone else came in to the room. Mycroft looked up and froze in place as a very handsome specimen crossed the room and looked around. American, wealthy, and, if Mycroft wasn't mistaken, looking more for a fling than a marriage.

Polishing off his drink, Mycroft picked up another glass and made his way over to the man before someone else could get their claws into him.

"Good evening," he said politely.

The man smiled at him, a grin that made warmth pool in Mycroft's stomach. "Well, good evening," he said, eyes sweeping over Mycroft.

This could go very well, or very badly. Mycroft was tired, bored and, frankly, this man was the most interesting person he'd seen in quite some time. His accent was American, something southern underneath a proper boarding school dialect. Interesting.

"Mycroft Holmes," he said to introduce himself. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting."

"No, I'm certain I'd remember you if we had. Greg Lestrade." He offered his hand and Mycroft shook. His grip was as confident as the rest of his demeanor.

"Mister Lestrade," said someone to his left. "Would you be interested in a dance with my daughter?"

Greg glanced at the man, then the girl, then back to Mycroft. "I do need to put in an appearance," he said quietly. "But I do hope we can... speak more later."

"I will be here," said Mycroft.

Greg bowed to the young lady in question and took her hand, heading out onto the dance floor. Mycroft bit back a wave of jealousy and put his drink aside, dancing with one of the eligible ladies, though his eyes kept straying to the man who had captured his attention.

When the dance finished, Mycroft caught Greg's eyes and angled his head at the door to the garden. Greg nodded and Mycroft made his way out, grateful for once that nobody was paying him much mind.

He didn't have long to wait before Greg appeared. "Have you seen these gardens?" asked Mycroft, leading him away from the house.

"Very lovely," said Greg, looking at Mycroft.

Mycroft flushed under the attention, feeling decidedly off-balance. Greg walked closer to him then was proper, but he didn't mind a bit.

"I only just arrived in London. My family thought it might be good for me. I'm the second son, so perhaps they hoped I would broaden my horizons."

"I'm the eldest. My family estate is a ways to the south, near the coast. But my family thought I should attend this season."

They reached a quiet corner of the garden and Greg sat on a bench. Mycroft followed him down like a magnet.

"And, are you looking for some company?" asked Greg, covering Mycroft's hand with his own.

Mycroft shivered. "I should be looking for a wife, but in truth, I would much prefer company."

Greg picked up his hand and kissed the back of it. "I suspect we both need to put in appearances." He reached into his suit coat and pulled out a card. "Come find me at my hotel tomorrow?"

Mycroft swallowed hard and accepted it. "I will," he said.

"Good," said Greg, scooting a little closer. "I must confess I noticed you first."

Mycroft smiled. "I noticed as soon as you walked in."

"We should get back to the party," said Greg without moving.

Mycroft glanced at the card to memorize it and then tucked it away in his pocket. "I'm sure someone will notice your absence long before mine."

"Don't count yourself out." Greg leaned over and brazenly kissed his cheek before pulling back. "Lunch. Tomorrow, noon?"

"I will be there," promised Mycroft.

"Better be." Greg gave him that irrepressible grin one more time, then slowly pulled back, watching Mycroft as he stepped away, only reluctantly turning his attention to his steps and heading back for the house.

Mycroft sighed and slouched, scrubbing his hands through his hair. Foolish. Dangerous and foolish. If he was as smart as he knew he was, he should destroy the card and forget he'd ever laid eyes on the man. But he'd spent a lifetime denying himself and for once he wanted to give in to his desires. And it seemed to be a sentiment shared by the American with dark eyes and a dangerous smile.

Taking a few more deep breaths, feeling his cheek tingle with the lingering effects of Greg's kiss, Mycroft stood and straightened his clothes, then headed back for the ball himself.

Greg was, of course, surrounded by attractive, eligible ladies. Mycroft did a few more dances but soon enough found an excuse to leave. It was a short drive to the flat he was using, a small space owned by a second cousin that was presently away on the continent.

Mycroft let himself in and locked the door behind him, glancing at himself in the mirror for a moment before going to his wardrobe and picking out his clothes for the lunch with Greg. Mummy would have his hide, but she wasn't here. Besides, there was still time enough to spend some with Greg and pick out a wife.

Grumbling to himself, Mycroft got ready for bed, not bothering with waking the one servant that more or less came with the flat. If he couldn't find someone then they were in very real danger of losing the estate, or at the very least, selling off much of the land.

And maybe, just maybe, Greg could be the answer to their problems.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has smut. And Mycroft makes an impulse decision.

The next morning Mycroft had a light breakfast and went to make himself presentable and, he hoped, at least a little attractive. Clearly Greg was already interested, but he could certainly grease the wheels a bit.

Mycroft's suit set off his eyes. He looked every inch the gentleman, as usual, but hopefully, there was something alluring as well. Not that he'd ever thought of himself as a particular catch.

Finally, he took a cab to the hotel. It was certainly one of the nicer ones in the city though it was not the one used by most tourists. Which was another point in Greg's favor. Clearly he'd either done some research or, at the very least, gotten lucky in his choice of lodgings.

Mycroft could use a little luck.

Greg was sitting in the lobby with a newspaper. His smile was no less warm for it being the morning. "Glad you made it," he said, getting to his feet. "Hungry?"

Mycroft resisted the urge to ask 'for what?' and instead smiled in return. "Looking forward to the pleasure of your company."

Greg's grin turned a little wider and he brushed Mycroft's arm as they headed into the hotel's small restaurant.

No, Greg was still very interested.

They sat in a small booth in the back. Mycroft listened to Greg talk a little bit about himself and the differences between England and America. But he asked about Mycroft, too and he found himself opening up a bit about his family and the sort of life he lived.

"I'm sorry about your father," said Greg with sincerity. "Mine passed two years ago."

"The complicated legacies of important men," said Mycroft.

"Yes we are," said Greg, finishing his drink. "Would you care to come up to my room?"

It wasn't entirely proper, but Mycroft would be a fool to say no. "I'd be delighted.

"Excellent." Greg led the way up the grand staircase, then up a smaller one to the top floor and down to the end of the hallway. "It's a small suite," he said. "I like having my space."

"I'm sure in America you get used to it. You'd like my estate; the house sits on a rather lonely stretch of land."

"I'm sure I would." Greg opened the door and they stepped inside.

It was a lovely suite, cozy, with a fireplace in the sitting room and a small piano up against one wall. An open door led to the bedroom.

Greg went over to the sideboard for drinks as Mycroft found himself drawn to the piano. "Do you play?" asked Greg.

"A bit," said Mycroft, setting his hat aside.

"Please, feel free to play it. I'm no good at it, myself."

"Thank you." Mycroft gave him a smile and sat down, opening the lid and letting his hands feel the keys for a moment before launching into a piece. 

Greg sat down to watch him play. "That was great," he said when Mycroft finished.

"Thank you." He closed the lid and moved to sit next to Greg on the couch, sipping the drink Greg had made for him.

Greg watched him and then moved a little closer. "If I may be so bold, Mycroft, you are a very attractive man."

Mycroft managed not to spit out his drink. "Ah, well, thank you. Nothing compared to yourself."

"The moon shouldn't get jealous of the sun," said Greg, letting his hand rest on Mycroft's knee. "And I think I'm right in that you're as interested in me."

"I did come to London to find a wife," said Mycroft. He wet his lips. "It seems I may have found something far more interesting."

"And I'm certain I made my interest plain last night," said Greg.

"You did," said Mycroft, shifting a little closer to him.

Greg leaned in to cup his cheek and kiss him.

Mycroft moaned softly. It felt like falling, in the best possible way. Greg's tongue slipped into his mouth and Mycroft opened for him, finding himself surrendering to Greg's hands as they started on the buttons of his waistcoat.

"May I have you, Mycroft Holmes?" Greg whispered as he broke the kiss.

"Please," answered Mycroft, reaching over to fondle Greg through his trousers.

Greg groaned softly, eyes closing. "Your hands are wicked," he muttered as Mycroft teased the length of his cock.

"And you haven't had my mouth on you yet," purred Mycroft, leaning in to kiss his throat.

"Bedroom," said Greg, heaving himself off the sofa and taking Mycroft's hand to pull him that direction.

Mycroft certainly wasn't going to argue. He quickly found himself on his back in the middle of a large, comfortable bed, Greg getting his buttons open as he smothered him with kisses. Leave it to an American to know exactly what he wanted and take it. Mycroft tried to copy his movements, but Greg's hands were defter and clearly more practiced at this.

Greg soon enough had him stark naked. Mycroft had only a moment to wonder when exactly that happened before Greg removed the last strip of his own clothing and took Mycroft in hand. All other thoughts stopped as Mycroft moaned and arched up into his sure grip.

"Gorgeous," muttered Greg. "Look at those freckles." He leaned down to mouth at one of Mycroft's nipples, dragging his teeth along his skin as he reached for a bottle of oil on the bedside table..

Mycroft bit his lip to keep from crying out, his legs falling open. "Take me, please."

"So polite and proper," growled Greg. "Do you want me to  _ fuck _ you, Mycroft?"

"God, yes," panted Mycroft as Greg's hand trailed downward and started teasing him.

Greg leaned up to kiss him as he pushed a slicked finger in. Mycroft moaned against his lips. He'd never wanted anything so badly as this. His few discreet assignations were nothing compared to this wild American.

"I want to hear you say it," said Greg raising his head and watching Mycroft's face. "Ask me to fuck you."

Mycroft blushed. Greg slowed the movement of his fingers.

_ Christ _ . "Fuck me, please," groaned Mycroft.

Greg chuckled. "Still polite, but I'll allow," he said, settling between Mycroft's thighs.

Mycroft wound his arms around Greg's neck, moaning into his kiss as Greg guided himself into him

"Good," murmured Mycroft, catching his breath as Greg filled him, clearly being careful not to hurt him, but relentless in his movements.

Mycroft moaned and ran his hands down Greg's back, moving with him. For a few precious moments nothing else in the world mattered.

Greg quickly lost rhythm, tucking his head against Mycroft's shoulder as he filled him. Mycroft held him close, toying with the hair at the nape of Greg's neck as he started to come down.

At last, Greg raised his head and kissed Mycroft, before working a hand between them and taking him in hand. It didn't take long at all for him to bring Mycroft over the edge, making Mycroft swear under his breath.

They lay tangled in one another's arms for long minutes, sipping kisses from each other's lips. Eventually, though, Greg rolled off the bed and went to get something to clean them up with. Mycroft watched him move into the loo and felt an ache he'd never had before.

Suddenly, he didn't want to go home without this man.

"Greg?" he asked as he came back and cleaned up the mess on Mycroft's stomach.

"Yeah?" Greg paused in what he was doing to look at him.

Mycroft worried his lip in his teeth for a moment. "Do you have any pressing plans? Say for the next week or so?"

"No, I'm wide open. Got a few more balls and whatnot, but nothing I need to attend, why?"

Mycroft took a breath. "Would you like to come home with me? You should see more of England than just the city, anyway."

Greg's smile was like sunshine coming through the clouds. "Spend more time with you? You make a very compelling argument." He leaned down and kissed Mycroft. "When do we leave?"

"Meet me at the station tomorrow morning?"

"I'll be there."


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the afternoon had been spent in bed. It was the sort of intimacy Mycroft had never thought he'd have for himself. And under Mummy's watchful eye at home it very well might not happen again. But he wasn't willing to give it up so easily.

Mycroft went back to his flat that evening and quickly packed up what he needed. Truth be told he would be glad to get out of London anyway. And maybe he could convince Greg to invest in the estate.

Early the next morning he went to the train station, a little anxious and worried that Greg wouldn't show. But he did, smiling warmly at Mycroft as he met him on the platform. "Good morning," he said. "I wasn't sure which train to put my luggage on."

"Ah, I'll take care of that for you," said Mycroft.

The luggage was soon sorted and the train arrived a few minutes later. Mycroft and Greg got on board and settled in for the ride, sitting across from one another. Mycroft had his hands folded in his lap, though truth be told he'd rather be sitting next to Greg.

"So, tell me what I should expect?" Greg asked as the train started to move.

"Ah, well, it's myself, my younger brother and my mother. My mother has her own ideas about things and in all honesty she won't be happy about my return."

"Right, I'm not exactly the blushing bride you were sent to acquire."

"Exactly. But she does want things to work out, she just worries. She was running the household even before my father died and while I do a lot to help her out with the estate she still takes it as her primary job."

"And what about your brother."

"Sherlock... is a handful," said Mycroft, glancing out the window. "He was recently sent home from university though he claims he chose to leave, not that they kicked him out. The truth is likely somewhere in the middle. He's brilliant and clever and often occupies himself for days in the laboratory he has in one of the outbuildings. We somewhat forced him out there after he nearly set a wing of the house on fire."

"That kind of younger sibling," chuckled Greg. "My youngest sister is a bit wild that way. Heaven help the man she decides to marry. If she ever does."

"How many siblings do you have?" asked Greg.

"Five. One older brother, two younger sisters and two younger brothers."

"Big family," said Mycroft, watching as the train started to move.

"And we've somewhat scattered to the winds these days. Father got lucky enough to strike it rich. One of my younger brothers is prospecting in Australia. And then there's me, just sort of looking for the right sort of career to come along. Or maybe the right person." He caught Mycroft's gaze.

Mycroft felt warm. He swallowed hard and looked away. "I do hope that you find the happiness you seek."

Greg glanced around and then moved to sit next to him. "You deserve happiness too," he said quietly. "I know we only met a few days ago, but I can see that."

Mycroft gave him a soft, sad smile. "Well I'm risking Mummy's wrath by bringing you home, so I guess that's what I'm attempting to do."

"And if I didn't want to spend more time with you, I wouldn't have accepted. Now, tell me the things you love about your estate."

Mycroft blinked a few times. "Ah, well, there's a spot down by the turn of the river where there used to be a monastery. Now it's just ruins, but it's a nice spot for a picnic or if you want some time alone."

"That sounds lovely. America is too new to really have anything like that."

"Not everyone would think a ruin is lovely," said Mycroft, flicking his eyes up to meet Greg's.

"Well not everyone can see things the same way. I know when something has value."

Mycroft blushed and looked away again. Greg patted his hand for just a moment and then returned to his seat across from him.

Reaching over to touch his own hand, Mycroft turned to look out the window. It was a comfortable silence as they traveled. Greg pulled out the newspaper to read and Mycroft eventually pulled out some paperwork that had to do with the estate before giving up on it and taking out a novel instead.

Towards evening they finally reached the stop. Mycroft felt anxious as he led the way onto the platform. "I'll get us a ride to the estate if you want to get the luggage," he said.

"Sure thing," said Greg, turning to his task while Mycroft walked into the station proper.

"Ah, nice to see you Mister Holmes. This is unexpected." Toby had long been a part of the local village and could usually be found around the train station, unless he was taking someone somewhere.

"Decided to come home a little early," said Mycroft with more ease than he felt. "Brought a friend with me."

"Ah. A lady friend?" asked Toby with a wink.

"Erm, no, actually," said Mycroft, just as Greg appeared with the luggage.

Toby raised an eyebrow but wisely didn't comment. "Well I'm sure your mum will be happy to have you home. Let me get your luggage."

Greg ended up helping Toby put the luggage in the carriage. Mycroft was beginning to wonder how terrible an idea this had been. Meanwhile, Greg was chatting amiable with Toby and no doubt winning him over with his easy charm. Mummy wouldn't be so easy to crack.

The golden hour lay over the land as they headed towards the estate. Mycroft simultaneously was glad to see the familiar landscape and increasingly anxious at the thought of facing his mother. Greg reached over and covered his hand with his own since Toby was busy with the horses.

Mycroft shot Greg a smile of gratitude.

"So is all of this your family’s land?" asked Greg.

"Well, not all of it."

"The Holmes's have taken care of this village a long time," piped up Toby. 

"We do try," said Mycroft.

The road took a turn and the house could be seen, an imposing structure atop a rise in the land, surrounded by a garden that had perhaps seen better days. The old gardener couldn't quite up like he once had and there really wasn't money to hire on an apprentice.

"It's gorgeous," said Greg quietly.

"I'm glad you like it," said Mycroft, swallowing back his worry as they pulled up to the front of the house.

Marcus, the butler, and one of his assistants stepped out to meet them. "Mister Holmes, we weren't expecting you."

"I decided to come home, for now," he said. "Please arrange a room for my friend, Mister Lestrade, will you?"

"Of course, sir. Your mother and brother are dining."

"Thank you," said Mycroft, leading Greg into the house. He looked over at him. "Did you want to freshen up first, or...?"

"Might as well face the music," said Greg, resting a hand in the small of Mycroft's back.

"Hopefully it's not a dirge," muttered Mycroft, leading him through the halls and towards the dining room. He took one more breath and walked into the dining room, glad to see it was only Mummy and Sherlock at the table. They both looked up in surprise. Mummy narrowed her eyes as she caught sight of Greg. Sherlock looked more curious.

"You're home early," said Mummy. "And who is this?"

"Greg Lestrade," said Mycroft, stepping aside to introduce him. "From America. Lestrade, my mother and my brother."

Mummy looked him over. "Welcome," she said in a tone that was anything but. "Please join us."

"Thank you ma'am." said Greg, taking a seat next to Sherlock. Mummy's eyes tracked Mycroft as he walked around the table to sit next to her. A servant quickly brought out two more plates and they settled in to eat.

The tension was thick and there was no conversation. Mycroft resisted the urge to drink more wine than necessary. Sherlock finished eating first but even he didn't dare leave the table until Mummy had put her fork down. "Sherlock, show our guest to his room," she said.

Sherlock nodded and looked at Greg. Greg stood and gave Mummy a slight bow. "Thank you very much for dinner. I look forward to the pleasure of your company."

"Yes, I will be speaking with you soon, I am sure." Mummy watched them leave then turned her attention to Mycroft. "A word."

Mycroft swallowed hard. He stood and reached for the wine, taking one last sip before following her out of the dining room and into the study. Mummy walked over to the window and looked out at the evening garden. "I sent you to London for a purpose, Mycroft."

"I know," he said, standing awkwardly by the fireplace.

"Do I need to remind you of the importance of your mission?" she asked.

"Lestrade is from a wealthy family. I thought perhaps he could be convinced to help us."

Mummy turned from the window to look at him. "But he is not a wife. Whatever your predilections, you need an heir."

Mycroft felt like she was pressing on his lungs. There was no hiding from her gaze and of course she already knew exactly what was on his mind. "I'm sure I can arrange something," said Mycroft at last.

"And so the bloodline will end with you and your brother. Is that what you want?" Mummy took a step towards him.

"I don't even know if I could.... perform my duties as a husband," said Mycroft.

"You would because it's your duty." Mummy took another step. "Lestrade is a guest in our home and I will treat him as such. However, there will soon be a number of other guests here. I expect you to pick one and make her your wife. If this Lestrade wants to contribute to the coffers then I suppose he can, but he's not staying here longer than a fortnight. Do you understand?"

Mycroft hung his head. "Yes, Mummy."

"Good. This is important, Mycroft. Duty must always come first. Duty, then family. How long have you even known him?"

"Not long," Mycroft admitted.

"Have you seen his accounts? Do you know he's as wealthy as he claims?" Mummy was very close now and Mycroft was feeling faint.

"I'm certain that he is," said Mycroft.

Mummy looked at him a moment longer, then turned and walked back to the window. "Go, Mycroft. But do not forget what I have said. A fortnight."

Mycroft felt tears stinging his eyes. But he bowed stiffly to his mother. "Yes, Mummy. I'll speak with him. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mycroft."

Mycroft felt her watching him in the reflection of glass as he turned and walked out.


	4. Chapter 4

It was with a heavy tread that Mycroft left the study and climbed the stairs to his room. Outside he could hear a storm starting to brew. It very much matched his mood.

He walked into his room and sat down on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, wondering what on earth he was going to tell Greg. He should have never invited him here, should have left him in London and done what was expected of him.

There was a soft knock on the door and Greg let himself in. "That bad?" he asked, coming to sit next to Mycroft and putting an arm around him. 

Mycroft leaned against him and wiped his eyes. "Mummy says you can only stay a fortnight. She's going to have an event here and I have to choose a wife."

Greg kissed his temple. "You don't have to do everything she tells you," he said.

Mycroft raised his head. "You haven't had to face her down. And she is right, not like you and I together could produce an heir."

"But maybe we could find a way through this. I know we've only known each other a few days, Mycroft, but... I feel a connection to you. I've had flings aplenty if I'm honest, but you... You're different."

Mycroft cupped his cheek and leaned in to kiss him gently. Outside the rain started thrashing against the windows.

Greg rubbed his back. "You're the lord of the manor, or whatever, right?" he asked.

"Yes. Nearly everything goes to the eldest male heir. My brother received a small income, as did my mother." Mycroft took a breath and looked away from him. "But we're nearly ruined. I was supposed to find someone wealthy to marry."

"How much do you need?" asked Greg gently.

Mycroft looked back at him. "You've only known me for three days."

"And I know that I want to be with you," Greg held his hand. "Being here, with you, it feels like coming home."

"I know what you mean," said Mycroft, leaning in to kiss him again. "I can show you the accounts in the morning, if you really want to see."

"I do. Maybe I can help. If you need cash, I can do that. If you need help figuring out how to make things viable, I might be able to do that, too."

Mycroft nodded. "I'm tired," he admitted.

Greg gently brushed his hair back. "Are you going to get in trouble if I sleep in here with you?"

"Mummy will probably assume we're doing so anyway."

Kissing Mycroft one more time, Greg got up and smiled at him. "We'll figure it out. I'm just going to get ready for bed and then I'll be right back. Okay?"

"Yes," said Mycroft. He reached out and caught Greg's hand. "Thank you."

Greg pulled his hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "You're welcome."

Mycroft watched him walk out, then flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. What had he been thinking, bringing Greg home?

The door opened again and he rolled on his side to find Sherlock loitering in the doorway. "You may as well come in," said Mycroft, getting out of his suit coat.

"Why did you bring Lestrade home?" asked Sherlock, echoing his own thoughts as he sat on the bed.

Mycroft stepped behind his screen to undress and change into his nightclothes. "It felt like the right thing to do at the time," he said quietly.

"And now?"

"I don't know. He wants to help. And he likes me."

"Does he?" asked Sherlock. "You don't do friends."

"Not usually, no. But there's something about him."

"Is it just because you slept with him?" asked Sherlock.

Mycroft sighed. "No. It's more than that."

Sherlock made a noise as if he didn't quite believe him. Mycroft came back around from the screen. "Mummy says I have to marry. I have to produce an heir."

"Well I'm not going to do it," said Sherlock, wrinkling his nose and getting to his feet. "I'm thinking of going to London."

"Not back to school, I assume?"

"No. I don't need any more school. I want to do something different."

Mycroft scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Well, I wish you luck with that. When will you leave?"

"Not for a little while yet," Sherlock glanced at him, then headed for the door. "I do rather want to see how this thing with Lestrade is going to turn out."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. Sherlock always did have a flair for the dramatic that rivaled their mother’s. He turned down the covers as Greg let himself into the room. "That's a pretty good storm outside," he said, looking out the window.

"It'll be good for the flowers," said Mycroft. "Sherlock was just in here asking about you."

"I'm sure he's curious. It's natural." Greg smiled and climbed into bed. "Is this alright?"

"Yes," said Mycroft, putting out the light and climbing in after him. He scooted over to Greg and curled up on his chest. If the world was fair it would permit him this every night. But far too often the world was cruel and hard.

Greg ran a hand through Mycroft's hair. "We'll figure it out," he said.

"You Americans are always so optimistic," said Mycroft.

"Not all of us, but I guess it comes from having opportunities. And you, Mycroft, are the one thing I would choose for myself."

"What will your family say? You spending your portion of the family fortune on a run-down estate in a quiet corner of England."

Greg kissed the top of his head. "Honestly, they'll probably be glad I found something that makes me happy. Things back home... well, that's another conversation."

Mycroft frowned, feeling like Greg was hiding something. But that was a topic better suited for daylight. Closing his eyes, Mycroft found a restless sleep to the sound of rain.

Mycroft woke early the next morning to the birds outside his window. Greg had curled up on his side sometime in the night and the daylight revealed some greys among his brown hair. He looked relaxed and comfortable and for a moment Mycroft allowed himself to imagine waking up to him every morning, to staying by his side as he went silver. 

It was a beautiful dream, but Mycroft couldn't see how it was possible.

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Mycroft leaned over to kiss Greg's cheek. Greg smiled and rolled onto his back, pulling Mycroft down against his chest. "Morning," he said, kissing his lips.

"Good morning," said Mycroft, kissing him back.

"So what's on the agenda today?" asked Greg letting one hand rest on the small of his back.

Mycroft shivered. "Well, breakfast, and then you wanted to see the books, I think."

"Maybe this afternoon you could take me to that spot by the river you told me about?"

"You really want to see it?" Mycroft couldn't help the surprise in his voice. 

"I told you, it's you I'm interested in. All of you."

Mycroft leaned down to kiss him again, but pulled back quickly at a noise in the hall. "Come on, before the servants find us."

"They probably already know," smiled Greg, reaching up and twisting Mycroft's curl in his fingers. "But alright."

Mycroft didn't doubt the truth of Greg's words, but still, no need to tempt fate. Or Mummy's wrath. Greg stole one more kiss on his way out of bed and headed to his own room to dress. Mycroft pulled his pillow close and held it for a moment, then went to put his own clothes on.

He'd like nothing more than a long lie in with Greg, but no way would he be allowed to get away with it. A fortnight, that's what he had to convince Mummy to let Greg stay. Best to start off on the right foot.

Greg escorted him downstairs to the breakfast table. Mummy started asking him questions about his family, which Greg answered deftly, giving the same answers and stories he'd told Mycroft on the train.

Sherlock wandered down to the table when they were nearly finished. Mummy gave him a look, which he ignored, pushing the food around on the plate that was put in front of him.

Greg turned his attention to him. "So you've got some experiments?" he asked.

Sherlock looked at him. "Chemistry, yes."

"Sounds really interesting," said Greg.

Sherlock took two bites of food and dropped his fork. "Attempting to get on my good side will not help you in your quest to stay with Mycroft," he said, getting to his feet and sauntering out.

The room was awkwardly quiet in his wake. "Well, Greg, would you like to see the information?" asked Mycroft.

"Sure," answered Greg with a smile. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said to Mummy as he got to his feet.

Mummy muttered something about how at least Greg had manners as they made their way out. Mycroft took him to his study, a room much more cramped than the one that Mummy had confronted him in last night. But that was her domain.

"Not the sort of place I'd think of for the Lord of the Manor," said Greg, idly spinning a globe on one corner of the desk.

"Mummy took over Father's old study. I've used this for years," shrugged Mycroft. "It's got a view of the garden."

Greg walked over to the single window, mindful of the books all but spilling out of the shelves. "It feels like yours," he said as Mycroft carefully put a chair next to his own at the table.

"I've got copies of all the estate documents." Mycroft opened up the account books. "Mummy and I go over them at least once a week. She's kept a close eye on everything for a very long time, so she does so still."

"Even though you're plenty old enough to run it on your own." Greg put a hand on his shoulder. "She's pretty controlling, isn't she?"

"She means well," said Mycroft quietly. "She wants what's best for the estate and the family."

"But not always what's best for you," said Greg, taking a seat.

Mycroft shrugged. "I'm supposed to hold duty and family above any petty concerns and desires of my own."

Greg drew him into a kiss. "That's not how it has to be, you know."

"It's how it is. I have a responsibility to this estate, and to the village. We've been here a very long time and I don't want to see it ruined on my watch." Mycroft opened up the accounting book. "But I'm afraid that might just happen."

"Well, let's see what you've got. I'd bet you've got a better head for numbers, but maybe you know some things I can invest in."

"I did have some ideas for the village, but not the capital to do them. If we could attract more people it would give the entire local economy a boost."

"Show me," smiled Greg. "I've got the capital."

Mycroft nodded and showed him his ideas and where the estate was now. Greg seemed interested, if not downright enthusiastic. Maybe, just maybe, they could work something out between them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one also has smut

They finally stopped around lunchtime. Mycroft led Greg to the kitchen and the old cook quickly put together a lunch for them that they could take with them. "Thank you," said Mycroft as Greg picked up the basket.

"Go on, enjoy the sunshine," said, turning to her other work.

Mycroft led Greg away from the house, pointing out some things that they'd discussed in the finances and heading down towards the river. "Family legend says that the house used to be a castle overlooking the village and the river, but over time they didn't need the defenses and they wanted to make it more comfortable, so the castle walls came down and the house became what it is now. I know it's at least somewhat true because there's evidence in the foundations."

"Makes sense," said Greg, looking around. "It's a lovely land."

"Thank you," said Mycroft, following a time worn path down the hill. "This used to be a small monastery, but it was torn down with the rest of them, though I think they tried to argue that it was the family chapel."

"Maybe it was both," said Greg, taking in the one remaining wall and the overgrown, tumbledown stones on a rise next to the river. "There used to be a dock here and supposedly when this was a castle it was partially how they got supplies from the village to here. When I was young there used to be a boat kept down here still, but it got washed away in a spring flood and never replaced."

"That's a little sad," said Greg, walking down towards the water where a few stones still showed roughly where the dock had once stood.

"Maybe we can get a boat, if you want," said Mycroft putting down their picnic under a tree that had grown up in the middle of the ruins. "Another legend says this tree grew up where the altar stood."

"I like this land. We're not old enough to be full of legends like this." Greg smiled and climbed back up to him, taking a seat on the blanket he spread out. 

"It's part of what keeps me tied to this place," admitted Mycroft. "There's so much family history here." He sighed and looked back up towards the estate. "I told my mum, I don't even know if I could do my duties as a husband if I did get married."

"Knowing you, you'd figure out some way to get it done," said Greg cupping his cheek to turn his gaze away and kissing him gently. "Do you know when your mother is going to have the candidates here?"

"Not exactly. I'd imagine sometime in the next few days, though. I'm sure as soon as the invitations can reach everyone. The end of the week, at the latest."

"Then I'll still be here and I'll help you, as much as I can," said Greg.

"You already are." Mycroft kissed him again.

Greg gently lay him back on the blanket and moved over him. "Are we very much alone here?" he asked.

"Baring Sherlock getting nosy, yes," said Mycroft, leaning up and kissing him.

Greg smiled and kissed him back, then moved down, opening Mycroft's trousers. "I want to taste you if that's alright."

"Oh, no complaints from me," answered Mycroft, breath already coming short.

Greg watched his face as he released his cock, leaning down to lick a stripe up it.

Mycroft's eyes slammed shut and he bit back a moan. While he'd had a few minor encounters here and there, nobody had ever taken the time to just  _ worship _ him the way Greg was doing. He cupped Mycroft's balls, mouth doing absolutely sinful things that had Mycroft clapping a hand over his mouth to keep from crying out. 

"Gorgeous," whispered Greg as he raised his head and kissed the tip of his cock. Mycroft cracked one eye open, but then Greg was swallowing him down again and his eyes squeezed shut.

Greg took his time, bringing Mycroft to the cusp of release and then slowing down again. It was delicious torture that had Mycroft moaning softly behind his hand, helpless to Greg's whims in all the best ways.

At last, just when Mycroft thought he might fly apart at the seams, Greg permitted him to find release, making Mycroft cry out. Greg swallowed every drop and then finally eased back, wiping his mouth as he grinned at Mycroft.

"You are terrible," groaned Mycroft sitting up and kissing him hard.

Greg laughed and fell back on the blanket, pulling Mycroft over him and tangling his hands in his hair. 

Mycroft reached down and got Greg's flies open, giving him a stroke. Greg moaned into the kiss, rolling hips.

"I suppose after all of that you want to fuck me," said Mycroft.

"God I love when you talk dirty. Hell yes, I do."

"I will permit it," said Mycroft, shifting to the side and pushing his trousers a little further down as he settled on his hands and knees. Greg moved behind him, pressing a slicked finger into him. "Did you bring something with you?" asked Mycroft.

"I never claimed to be an angel," said Greg, pushing two fingers into him.

Mycroft moaned again. "A succubus is a more likely suspect," he said.

"Possibly." Greg guided himself into Mycroft, muffling his own groans against Mycroft's shoulder. 

Mycroft shivered, still hazy with pleasure. He was certain he'd let Greg do almost anything he wanted because whatever it was, it was certain to be good.

Greg didn't hold himself back, slamming into Mycroft and very quickly filling him with another moan. "Christ but you're a tempting morsel," he groaned as his hips jerked with the aftershocks.

"As if you have room to talk,” muttered Mycroft. Greg carefully pulled out and Mycroft hitched up his trousers.

"We should probably eat this lunch," said Greg, flopping back on the blanket.

"The cook would appreciate it if we did," said Mycroft, laying next to him and resting his head on Greg's shoulder.

"Maybe a little nap first," yawned Greg.

"Fine, but we really should eat it."

"We will."

Mycroft opened his eyes sometime later, realizing that they'd been out for longer than anticipated. He nudged Greg awake. "We should head back to the house."

Greg tugged Mycroft back down. "Comfortable," he muttered.

Mycroft kissed him and moved away, going to the picnic basket. "Here, at least eat something."

Grumbling a bit, Greg sat up and took the sandwich Mycroft offered. Mycroft looked up at the sky. "It might rain, here, grab the basket and come with me."

Greg did as he was told. Mycroft led him a little deeper into the ruins pushing past some brush until he reached a little alcove. There had once been a window but the open space was covered by a riot of vines and it provided some shelter from the elements.

"It blooms in the spring," said Mycroft, taking a seat on the old stones.

"I bet it's beautiful," said Greg, folding the blanket and sitting next to him. They ate in comfortable silence as the skies opened up to a gentle sprinkle of rain. It was peaceful and calm in a way the house never could be with Mummy around.

"You come down here a lot?" asked Greg as they finished.

"Sometimes. I'm sure Mummy knows where I am, but she seems to leave me alone when I'm down here. In the house she can always easily get ahold of me." Mycroft leaned back against the stones and picked at a leaf. "She didn't always use to be quite this bad, but since father passed away, well. I know she only wants what's best."

"What she says isn't gospel," said Greg.

"I know," sighed Mycroft. He looked up at the weather. "We should be able to head back to the house now."

Greg squeezed his hand. "I'm here for you. I think you need someone in your corner for once."

"I think I do too. And I'm glad it's you." Mycroft stole one more kiss and led the way back up towards the house, doing his best to fix his clothes on the way. He dropped the basket off in the kitchen and thanked the cook, then climbed the stairs towards his room, wanting to freshen up.

"And where have you been all day?" asked Mummy, appearing behind them.

Mycroft jumped and turned to face her. "Out. Just showing Lestrade the grounds."

Mummy wrinkled her nose. "At least I don't have to worry about you coming up pregnant."

"Hey, he's an adult," said Greg, stepping towards her.

"And certain things are illegal. If word got out about them..." said Mummy, staring him down. "We are a civilized country."

"Not about everything, you're not," said Greg. "And Mycroft is a grown man, he can make his own decisions."

Mummy sniffed. "As long as his work gets done," she said, turning on her heel. "And don't be late for dinner."

"We'll be there," said Mycroft as she walked away.

Greg took his hand and led him into his room. "She wouldn't tell on us, would she?" he asked.

"No, though she's certainly not above using it as a threat."

Greg leaned in to kiss him. "Well I'm not going anywhere."

"Good, because I don't want you too."


	6. Chapter 6

At breakfast the next morning Mummy announced that there would be a ball at the end of the week. Mycroft understood her look, knowing that he'd have to pick a wife out of those she invited. "Do you have any information on the ladies?" he asked.

"I do," she said, turning to one of the servants.

He returned a few minutes later with a small stack of papers and gave them to Mycroft. "Thank you," said Mycroft, putting them aside. "I'll look at them later today."

Mummy didn't respond, just turned back to her meal. Sherlock looked back and forth between the three of them but wisely kept his comments to himself.

After they ate, he and Greg went back to his office with the papers. "Let's take a look," said Mycroft, spreading them out.

A few of the women he dismissed quickly, based on the information he had, but some of them seemed like decent prospects. "I'll have to talk to them," he said gloomily, looking at the papers.

Greg squeezed his shoulder. "You'll do fine. And remember, at the end of the day, it's your choice."

"I will try," said Mycroft, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Come on," said Greg, let's get out of this study and you can show me more of the grounds, yeah?"

"Alright."

The next few days passed quickly. Mycroft spent as much time with Greg as he could, leaving the house in the afternoons after spending the morning tending to work. Greg caught a lift back to the village one afternoon so he could get a message to his family about his plans on staying in England.

Sherlock caught up with Mycroft while Greg was gone. "Do you still intend to keep him?" he asked.

Mycroft looked up from what he was doing. "If Greg wants to stay, then yes."

"Good luck," muttered Sherlock, walking away and leaving Mycroft staring after him.

The day of the ball dawned with more rain. Mycroft lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to it, wondering if this was how it felt to wake up on the day of one's execution. Not that it had to be as terrible as that, but he'd be expected to greet all of the guests, and talk to the women and pretend to be happy about it.

Greg leaned over to kiss Mycroft's cheek. "It will be okay," he murmured, resting a hand on his chest.

"I wish I had your optimism," said Mycroft.

"Well, let me be optimistic enough for the both of us," said Greg. "I know it's only been about a week but your mother hasn't run me off yet and I've yet to find a single reason to change my mind about being with you."

Mycroft turned his head and kissed Greg gently. "Is it too soon to say I love you?"

"I've been thinking it since day two, so, no I wouldn't say so." Greg ran fingers through Mycroft's hair. "And I'm staying, no matter what your Mum says."

Mycroft smiled softly, sadly. "I want nothing more than to keep you."

"Then let's withhold judgement until tonight. Maybe we can work something out with one of these ladies."

"I sincerely hope so," said Mycroft, squeezing his hand. "Come on, best to get up before one of the servants is sent after us."

"If you insist," said Greg. "Just remember, you're not alone, not anymore."

"And I'm grateful." Mycroft kissed him and reluctantly got out of bed.

The rest of the morning was spent in a blur of preparations. The first guests arrived not long after lunch: an older widow, one of Mummy's friends, and her daughter. Mycroft was polite to her but she'd already been put in the 'no way' list and the interactions they had only enforced that opinion. Mycroft was glad when the other guests started to arrive and he had a reason to leave his conversation with her.

Most of the other ladies were... fine. A couple of them were clearly overeager, a few of them were bored. Mycroft spoke with each of them, beginning to despair over ever making a choice even as they all sat down to dinner.

Once the ball started, there were a few more late arrivals. Gentleman as well, proper people, as Mummy would call them. Mycroft had to resist the urge to drink all of the wine and after a few dances with various women he escaped out to the garden for some fresh air and to try and hold off despair.

"It is all a bit dreadful isn't it," said a woman's voice off to his left.

Mycroft blinked a few times and looked up. "Ah, have we met?"

"No, I was waiting for a chance to speak with you alone. My name is Anthea Hazelwood."

"Mycroft Holmes, but you already knew that."

"Yes," she smiled, moving a little closer to him. She wasn't unattractive, even he could see that, with chestnut hair and warm brown eyes. "I believe we can help each other."

"Oh?" asked Mycroft, finding himself interested in hearing what she had to say. "And how do you propose that."

"You have a gentleman friend. I have a lady friend. We both need the security of a public relationship."

Mycroft glanced back towards the ballroom, "I..."

"Don't bother denying it. I can see you're being careful, but I'm not blind and, as I said, I have experience with my own situation. Of course the marriage would be public, but who's to say what goes on behind closed doors?"

"You do make a very good point." Mycroft was beginning to feel a desperate sort of hope, as if he'd just been tossed a lifeline in a drowning sea.

"I know you have to put on appearances tonight. But how about tomorrow the four of us meet in the village for lunch? My aunt owns a home there and we'll be left to our own devices. It would allow us to make a plan."

Mycroft smiled at her. "You're very clever. Yes, that sounds excellent. For now, however, would you join me for a dance? We should at least start the rumors now."

"A very good idea," said Anthea, taking his arm.

Mycroft led her back inside and after a few moments of talking where Mummy could see them, he put their drinks aside and led her to the dance floor. He had a feeling Anthea was exactly what he needed. And she knew it. Which was really just another point in her favor.

When he came off the dance floor they went to where Greg was sitting and chatting with another young woman. Anthea sat next to her. "I see you've been busy, Lucy," she told her.

Lucy smiled at Anthea. "As have you." 

Mycroft had the distinct feeling he was outnumbered. "Miss Hazelwood, this is Mister Lestrade," he said politely.

"And this is Miss Winter," said Anthea.

"A pleasure," said Mycroft, kissing the back of her hand.

"Miss Winter was just telling me..." started Greg, only to be cut off by Mummy swooping in to their corner.

"Mycroft, you really must dance with more ladies," she said, taking his arm.

Opening his mouth, Mycroft was steered away before he could protest. "I don't trust her," muttered Mummy.

"Miss Hazelwood?" asked Mycroft.

"Yes," said Mummy, all put pushing him at one of the other ladies. Well, that was yet another point in Anthea's favor. He needed all the allies he could get. "Miss Atwood, perhaps you would like a dance?"

She giggle coquettishly. "If Mister Holmes is amiable."

"My pleasure," said Mycroft, giving her a small bow and taking her hand. He cast one more glance towards the others, finding Anthea and Lucy in conversation with Greg. Greg looked his way and gave him an encouraging smile. Mycroft looked back at Miss Atwood and tried to focus on the task at hand.

Mummy kept him from going near Greg or Anthea the rest of the night. Greg danced with Lucy a few times before she vanished somewhat early. Mycroft obligingly danced with most of the eligible ladies, but he was more than exhausted by the time the evening wound down.

"Well?" asked Mummy as he bade the last guest farewell.

"Let me at least sleep on it," snapped Mycroft, then quickly corrected himself. "I need time, Mother."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Lestrade only has one more week," she reminded him, turning and walking towards her own room. Mycroft resisted the urge to make a rude gesture at his back.

He turned back towards his own room only to find Greg making the rude gesture for him. Mycroft couldn't help but laugh, quickly stepping into the room and pulling Greg into a kiss. "You're a terror."

"Well, she deserves it. You really do need to stand up to her, Mycroft. For yourself if nothing else."

"I know," said Mycroft quietly, leaning in and kissing him. "Let's see what Anthea has to say tomorrow."

"I like her. She's way smarter than I am. And Lucy has a strong backbone. I think the four of us could make something and keep this estate running."

"I hope you're right." Mycroft gave him one more kiss and then went to change into his nightclothes.


	7. Chapter 7

Mycroft and Greg left for the village around mid-morning, taking two horses. Mycroft had never been the most comfortable rider, but Greg looked as though he'd been born in a saddle.

"I rode horses all the time on my uncle's ranch," Greg assured him. "Not something I'd easily forget."

"Yes, well. If this one throws me and I lose whatever dignity I have left, please don't laugh."

"I'll do my best." 

Greg stayed close to Mycroft, but the horse was well behaved and they made it to the village without incident. Mycroft looked as they passed through it. The village had changed little in the time Mycroft had known it, but hopefully they could begin to attract more people. Greg had been given the directions to the house and led the way, with a little help from Mycroft.

The house was a tidy cottage. Greg easily got off his horse, then moved to help Mycroft from his. "Thank you," muttered Mycroft, safely back on the ground.

"Not a problem," said Greg, squeezing his hand. 

Mycroft straightened his clothes and his hat and went up to the door, knocking gently.

Lucy opened the door with a warm smile and let them in. Anthea was in the parlor with tea. Greg and Mycroft sat close together on one sofa, Anthea and Lucy on the other.

"Was it a pleasant ride?" asked Anthea politely.

"As much as it could be; I'm not particularly good with horses," said Mycroft. "Though Greg is a natural."

"I grew up around them," said Greg with a shrug.

They made a little more small talk before they turned to business. "So, Anthea, a marriage?"

Anthea put down her cup. "In name, at least. I believe the four of us could have a comfortable arrangement."

Greg looked at Mycroft, then at Lucy. "We could get married, too. Just be a shared household."

"That might work," said Mycroft. "But Mummy won't approve at all."

"Yeah, well your Mummy can...." Greg stopped talking. "Sorry."

"You're right, though," said Mycroft, scrubbing his face in his hands. "I need to stand on my own two feet."

"She can stay for the wedding," said Anthea. "But then I think she needs to give us our space."

"There's family she can visit," said Mycroft. "Her sister lives in Cardiff."

"I'll buy a train ticket," said Greg, putting down his cup and moving a little closer to Mycroft.

Mycroft smiled at him and squeezed his hand. "So, when should we have the wedding? I don't need a long engagement."

"And neither do I," said Anthea. "A month? And I'll be doing most of the wedding planning."

"Fine by me." Mycroft looked at Greg.

Greg looked over at Lucy and took a breath. "You should know, I'm divorced. My wife left me back in American. It's part of why I came here, to get away from all of that."

"You're not legally married, yes?" asked Lucy.

"No, the divorce was finalized before I left the country. I'm free as can be."

"Then there's no problem with marrying you," Lucy smiled at him. "I know we can make this work."

"I think so too," said Mycroft. "I know my mother will expect heirs, but..."

Anthea smiled at him. "We'll make that work, too. Don't worry."

Greg leaned over and kissed Mycroft's cheek. "You're not alone in all of this," he said. 

"And I'm so glad." He sighed and leaned against Greg. "I will let Mummy know when I get home. In fact... I should do that. Why don't you stay here and work on the wedding plans."

Greg frowned. "Are you sure?"

"I need to do this. For me." said Mycroft. "Come back to the house in a few hours, alright? Anthea, maybe you and Lucy can join us for dinner?"

"We'll be there," said Anthea.

Mycroft stood, crossed over to her and kissed her cheek. "Wish me luck."

Anthea smiled up at him. "You don't need it. You'll take care of this as you need to."

"Thank you." Mycroft took one last look at the group, then stepped out of the cottage. He eyed the horse dubiously, took a breath and climbed back on by himself. This all had to be something he did on his own.

He tried not to brood as he rode back to the house. It was high time that he took control of his own life, and that meant making his own choices and standing up for himself. Mummy wanted what was best, but she didn't think of his heart.

When he reached the estate he put the horse in the stable, turning her over to the capable hands of the servants, then turned and marched to the house. 

Mummy was in the conservatory with Sherlock, who was looking over some of the plants. He turned as Mycroft came in, eyes going a little bit wide as he looked him over. Silently, Sherlock walked over to a seat and threw himself down, clearly expecting a show.

Straightening, Mummy faced Mycroft.

Mycroft squared his shoulders. "I'm getting married, Mummy. To Miss Hazelwood."

"Are you?" Mummy crossed her arms. 

"Yes. In a month's time. And I think after the wedding you should go visit Aunt Margaret."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because, Mummy, I will be taking over running the estate in full. Which is what I should have done when father passed away. I appreciate what you've done, but I'll take care of it from here."

"And I suppose you’ll keep your  _ friend _ here, as well?"

"Yes, it seems he may be getting married as well. This house has plenty of room for two households."

"You don't even know him," said Mummy. "Or her."

"I know enough about both of them to know what I want and where I stand. So I suggest you speak with Aunt Margaret and make arrangements for visiting her."

Mummy opened her mouth to say something else, but for once in his life, Mycroft turned and walked away. 

He walked up to his room, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Ah, and he still had to tell the cooks about the extra dinner guests.

Mycroft got to his feet again and went to the mirror, straightening his clothes. He could handle this. He had to handle it. Fixing his hair, he went downstairs to speak with the cook, then went into the study and opened up the estate's books there. Most of the information was the same, but he wanted to be sure.

Mummy came in perhaps an hour later, stopping in the doorway when she saw him. "You're serious," she said.

Mycroft looked up from his work. "Completely."

Mummy looked him over, then glanced at a portrait of his father that hung on the wall before turning and walking away again.

Well, this was going to be an awkward month. But it had to be done. For his own sanity, if nothing else.

He closed the books near dinner time, just as he heard the other three arrive. He smiled, knowing that no matter what was to come, he wasn't alone.


	8. Chapter 8

Mycroft arrived downstairs in time to offer Anthea a hand out of the carriage and into the house. He was fully aware of Mummy staring at them as he did so.

"May I speak with you a moment, Miss Hazelwood?" she asked.

"Of course," said Anthea, giving Mycroft a quick smile and then following Mummy into the library.

"She'll be fine," said Lucy.

"That's at least in part why I'm marrying her," said Mycroft. "Here, let me show you around."

Greg reached out and took Mycroft's hand as he showed Lucy the house and the gardens. They returned to the dining room as Mummy came in with Anthea. She was clearly unhappy, while Anthea looked supremely confident.

Mycroft got Anthea's chair for her and they settled in to eat. Lucy and Greg kept up a steady stream of chatter that prevented dinner from becoming awkward. Sherlock looked entertained. Mummy left the table as soon as she finished eating.

"I think she really will go to Aunt Margaret’s," said Sherlock, sounding impressed.

"She will," said Anthea.

"I'll go to London. After the wedding." Sherlock glanced at Mycroft.

"Of course. You are my brother and I did hope you'd attend."

Sherlock merely inclined his head and excused himself from the table.

"Perhaps an evening walk?" suggested Mycroft as they finished.

"Sounds delightful," said Anthea.

Mycroft led the way down to the ruins. He wondered how long it had been since the stone wall had echoed back such laughter and excitement. Lucy kissed Anthea, who broke into a warm smile. Mycroft leaned against Greg and watched the sunset, more than content.

The fortnight deadline came and went without incident and Greg remained in the house. Anthea and Lucy stayed in the village as they planned the weddings. Mummy lurked around the edges but for the most part left the four of them alone. For the first time in a very long time, Mycroft began to really feel comfortable and relaxed at home.

The more he grew to know Greg, the more he cared for him. In Anthea, he found a reliable, intelligent partner. Lucy was proving to be a good friend and he found there was no jealousy when Greg spent time with her. He was certain this would all work out very well indeed.

The day of the wedding dawned with rain splattering gently against the window. Mycroft stretched and rolled onto his side, kissing Greg awake.

Greg smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "Ready to get married?"

"Well, I'd rather it was to you, but yes."

Greg smiled and rolled on top of him. "Is it terrible that I want to take you right now? Make sure you're feeling me all through the ceremony?"

Mycroft shivered. "Not at all. Do it. Anthea and Lucy are probably up to their own business down the hall."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Greg chuckled, pushing up his nightshirt and settling between his thighs.

Mycroft moaned softly, running fingers through Greg's hair. Greg slipped his tongue into Mycroft's mouth as he pressed into him, claiming him for his own. It was almost too much as he filled Mycroft, but it was sweet pleasure.

"You're mine," whispered Greg, nibbling his ear. "I know we're both getting married today, but that's only for the public. Behind closed doors, here, like this, you are mine."

"Only yours," answered Mycroft. "Meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to me."

"I feel the same," answered Greg, kissing him again, taking him slow and sweet, letting the pleasure build between them like a slowly rising river neared the edges of its banks.

Mycroft held Greg closely, moving with him, feeling how close he was to his peak. Greg came first, panting against his shoulder. Then he worked a hand between them and brought Mycroft over in turn, muffling his small cry with one more heated kiss.

They lay tangled in one another's arms for a few minutes longer, panting, their hearts only slowly returning to normal.

"I love you," muttered Greg.

"I love you, too," whispered Mycroft. "Come on, we can't be late for our own weddings." 

"I suppose you're right," said Greg, stretching and getting out of bed. 

"We'll have breakfast, then go to the village and get this done, and then it'll be back here to start our new married lives."

"I hope your mother has her bags packed."

"I think she does."

Breakfast was a tense affair with Mummy watching Mycroft over her morning tea. Mycroft excused himself and went into the study to deal with a couple of last minute things and was unsurprised when Mummy followed him.

"I do hope you know what you're doing," said Mummy.

Mycroft met her gaze. "I do. I have never been so certain as I am today."

"Good," she said, going over to the bookshelf and pulling on a book, revealing a panel. She took out a small box and brought it over to him. "Your father wanted you to have this on your wedding day."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow but accepted it from her. He opened the box to find a note and a pair of cufflinks. 

"I know what you think of me," said Mummy. "But I only wanted what was best for you and for the family."

Mycroft looked up from the box. "A kind word once in your life wouldn't have been remiss," he said coldly. "I do hope whatever children I have, if I have them, I will raise them with better care."

"You should have them," she said, turning away from him. "They would be good for you."

Mycroft watched her go, then sat down to read the note.

A few hours later they were in the village church. Anthea's family was warm to Mycroft and clearly approved of the match. Greg was talking to Lucy's family and he felt a small pang that none of Greg's family were here for the wedding, but he'd assured Mycroft that it was fine, that everyone had showed up for the first wedding, and they were just happy to hear that he was getting married and that he'd found someone he'd cared about and trusted.

The old village priest officiated the ceremony. Mycroft held Anthea's hand and quietly gave his vows, meaning them. He did want to do right by her and build this little family that they had. 

Mycroft glanced over as they finished and noticed Mummy wiping her eyes. A bit late to show any sort of care, but at least he could see that she did have a heart in there somewhere.

Greg and Lucy exchanged their vows in turn and then there was a small luncheon. Mycroft accepted the congratulations and any eagerness to be done and go back to the estate could be chalked up to wanting to start his married life. Which was true, but not in the way most would think.

At last they headed back to the estate. Sherlock had Mummy's luggage loaded up and gave Mycroft a nod as they headed out to the train station, leaving the four of them behind.

Mycroft took Greg's hand, smiling at Anthea and Lucy. "Ready to start the rest of our lives?"

"Very much so."

They turned and walked into the house, feeling the promise of the future and knowing that it was theirs to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone who has read along. I've enjoyed this fic and I hope you did too.
> 
> You can find me on twitter and tumblr @merindab

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter @merindab


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